


Hues of Green and Gold

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Getting Together, Little bit of angst, M/M, it's all Aidan's fault, lots of fluff, well that and the ice-cream's but Aidan is still in denial about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all the surprises Richard has had lately, being cast in the role of Thorin bloody Oakenshield, living in New Zealand for almost two years, and ending up with <em>two</em> boyfriends (or well, lovers rather, they're all a little old for the boyfriend title), are certainly on the top of the list.</p>
<p>Richard doesn't actually have a problem with any of them.</p>
<p>(the obligatory Daemon AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hues of Green and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to the wonderful kenporusty who was kind enough to cheer me on and beta this piece for me. Thank you!
> 
> Detailed lists of daemons and names can be found in the end notes.

  
***

Richard has always been an observer.

Everyone learns in school that daemons are the physical representation of a person’s soul, their spirit animal whose actions give a greater insight into their human counterpart’s innermost feelings and thoughts than the person’s actions themselves do. Yet, despite having learned that, very few people seem to be _cognizant_ of its importance, much less implement that knowledge beyond a very cursory filing of people into stereotypes according to their daemon’s form.

Having his Ithel, a deer daemon, at his side means that Richard has encountered that kind of preconception more times than he cares to count. A tall man with slightly forbidding features with a deer daemon of all animals, when deer are usually counted among the gentlest and most breakable creatures, is bound to attract attention – even though he doesn’t particularly want it to. It’s not that some of that stereotyping isn’t right, Richard does consider himself a fairly well-mannered and kind person, but there’s something about a deer daemon that apparently screams ‘weak’ and ‘shy’. And while Richard definitely isn’t a brash or brawny person, he’s neither of those things – he’s an actor for Christ’s sake – and quite tired of automatically being regarded as such.

In turn, he’s made it a habit to study the people around him, perhaps even more than a simple natural inclination would explain, and not only to try to see if they match up with the personalities their daemon’s form suggests, but to try and _understand_ them. Perhaps that drive is what makes him a passable actor, or perhaps it’s something else, but he now finds himself firmly entrenched in simply watching everything and everyone around him. Even if it oftentimes means that he himself just quietly sits in a corner, while everyone else is milling around and being interesting.

The first time he meets Peter in London, during his first – and, as it turns out later, only – audition, he’s instantly captivated to a degree that almost makes him forget his hurting back from the stunt gone slightly wrong on the Spooks set the day before. He had, of course, heard of the man’s genius in his field, and had agreed rather enthusiastically after watching the Lord of the Rings himself. But meeting a man with such a presence, one that can fill a room effortlessly when he chooses to, face-to-face is always different.

Peter’s daemon, Ramaroa, is a king-sized swan. Her perfectly white feathers glow whenever light hits them and the ensuing prism of light around both her and oftentimes Peter strikes Richard as almost unearthly. He has always figured that Ramaroa chose that shape because Peter, for all that he sometimes seems like some sort of kiwi ragamuffin, is an astoundingly beautiful person in spirit and mind – though Richard is aware of his own sometimes seemingly incongruent tendency to romanticize.

Nevertheless, he walks away from that meeting with the profound sense that even if he doesn’t get the part, he will never regret having made this audition and talked to Peter Jackson about Tolkien.

When the call comes that he _is_ going to play Thorin, he is so overwhelmed that he buries his face in Ithel’s soft fur and simply breathes deeply for a while as her sense of excitement mingles with his.

*

Martin is the first cast mate he meets, still in London at Heathrow airport before their joined flight to New Zealand. Martin, who meets him with a wide grin, shakes his hand, and says, “Seems like they should’ve cast you as Thranduil.”

For a moment Richard wants to bristle, his smile going a little thin, but he finds no maliciousness in Martin’s face, just a wry kind of humour that somehow says ‘been there, done that’ more eloquently than his explanatory hand wave towards his own fox daemon.

“You wouldn’t believe what kind of things people still associate with foxes, even when they’re not descendants from chicken farmers,” Martin elaborates, still in that same wry ‘I don’t give a fuck’ tone. “Coupled with the fact that Raisa’s a talker, we’ve had to get over bullshit like that quite a while ago.”

As if to prove his point Raisa mutters, “Understatement,” quiet enough that only Richard can hear her, but even that is unusual enough that his face probably shows his surprise. Daemons don’t usually talk around the people they aren’t bonded with, safe, perhaps, for family and close friends.

Richard isn’t one to judge oddness, however, and only nods in sympathy. He feels Ithel do the same beside him, and the minute tension in the set of Martin’s shoulders disappears.

Later, when Richard has got to know the other man better and learned not to confuse Raisa’s generally cuddly attitude with Martin going kung fu on every unsuspecting person’s ass whenever possible, he will realize that he’s just made his first friends in the production.

At the moment, however, he is distracted by another man walking towards the two of them, a brilliantly white snowy owl perched on his shoulders. Coupled with the blue cardigan he’s wearing, Adam Brown seems to embody the cliché of the kind wise man, though Richard privately thinks that all supporters of that idea frequently forget that owls are predator birds, and prickly when disturbed.

Of course Adam _does_ turn out to be exactly as nice as he looks, and the long flight to New Zealand passes a lot quicker than he’d anticipated, with the two of them as engaging seating partners. Ithel, too, seems to be at home with the other two daemons and they’re all joined in their nervousness and excitement regarding the time ahead anyway, so some company really doesn’t go amiss. It definitely stops Richard from worrying himself into a fret with only Ithel’s practical but biased advice to help.

Richard meets the rest of the dwarf cast two days later – he suspects that’s due to someone higher up trying to make him feel adjusted and comfortable _before_ throwing him into the deep end and he can only be grateful. He hadn’t been looking forward to meeting everybody while jet-lagged and flight-cranky.

Somehow, either by chance or because some very clever person subtly staged the scene – he honestly doesn’t much care – the other actors trickle into the bar in little dwarf family groups.

Ken and Graham are the first, instantly zeroing in on the table he and Martin have chosen in the back. Graham is followed by a dog, a collie if Richard isn’t mistaken, the sharp nose and shaggy multi-coloured fur indication enough, who the tall Scot introduces as Leal. Ken’s daemon isn’t anywhere to be seen, though Richard thinks he sees a small furry nose stick out of his sleeve once. He doesn’t push – daemons are a private business, as he well knows, though some people take that more seriously than others (see: Martin).

It turns out that Graham is about as easy to talk to as one can get, full of good cheer and adept at steering the conversation to new topics whenever old ones threaten to be exhausted. Ken, much like Richard, seems to be a quieter type, but he too offers well-founded comments now and then. Martin alternates between chatting incessantly and sitting silently, his sharp eyes assessing everything around him.

The next to arrive are Peter and John. Peter’s daemon is hard to miss, considering she has settled into bear shape, but John’s is nowhere to be seen.

Noticing the curious looks, John smiles wryly, obviously used to the scrutiny. “Moana is a sea turtle. Usually we bow to practicality and she lets me go out on my own.”

Richard doesn’t shudder precisely, but there’s a little reflexive chill just thinking about separation and he has to stop his hand from inching seeking Ithel’s warm body. No need to be rude about it after all, and it’s not as if John seems to have had much of a choice in the matter.

He’s still grateful though when Ithel nudges him with her cold nose, just once, a silent reassurance.

Before anyone can say anything else, the door falls open once more and three more people blow in. James Nesbitt he recognizes instantly, having met him once at some gala or other and he gives him and his Golden Lion Tamarin daemon, Ailís, a polite nod. The other two are quickly introduced as William and Stephen. The latter’s shoulder is occupied by a particularly tall squirrel, one little hand clutching at his ear. For a moment Richard thinks William, too, doesn’t have his daemon with him, but then he spots the little lizard on his shoulder, her vibrantly yellow head the only contrast to William’s dark shirt.

With all those new voices added to the discussion, Richard starts to find himself losing track of everyone, triggering an almost automatic response to get quieter and quieter as he tries to listen to every conversation around the table. A few minutes later he has to admit defeat; apparently this cast can chatter loudly with the best of them. Across the table Graham catches his gaze, looking a little worried and Richard summons a small smile in return, strangely touched that this virtual stranger cares enough to check up on him. And it’s not as if he’s having a bad time, especially not now that he’s decided to keep his focus on those sitting immediately around him.

Adam finally arrives last, with his two older ‘brothers’, Mark and Jed, in tow ,both with impressive bird daemons. While Mark’s peacock daemon attracts immediate attention with her elegant neck and feathers lightly dusted with delicate blotches of colour, Richard’s gaze is drawn to Jed’s falcon-like daemon – later the kiwi explains Jalila to be a swamp harrier, common in New Zealand – her keen eyes and graceful bearing almost magnetic in their intensity.

Perhaps having noticed Richard’s interested scrutiny, Jed makes himself space right next to Richard, cheerfully ignoring Martin’s muttered expletives at being pushed aside a little, immediately starting up a lively discussion as he draws all of Richard’s focus.

The only ones still missing over the course of the evening are his two ‘nephews’, but he feels pleasantly contented around everyone else to a surprising enough degree that he puts off worrying about meeting them – and whether they could achieve the possible chemistry needed for close family – for another time.

*

He meets Aidan and Dean the next day, when they’re _not_ busy with an emergency meeting with Peter due to Dean’s late casting, unsurprised to find that basically everything he’s heard about the two of them already turns out to be true.

Their friendship blooms from the very first moment.

Lúcháir’s hummingbird nature perfectly complements Aidan’s energetic, never-hold-still, bounce-around-all-the-bloody-time attitude. Her beauty doesn’t need to be mentioned, with gleaming feathers in hues of iridescent blues and greens, and the fact that Aidan is a perfect mirror goes without saying as well. He might not shine in different colours, but his dark hair, laughing eyes and fine features make him attractive enough. Richard sometimes wonders how the hell he’s managed to land in a cast full of borderline distractingly handsome co-stars. Ones who smile at him every morning. All cute, and adorable, and completely oblivious to the fact that no one should be that cheerful at five o’clock when it’s still dark and silent outside.

Richard is a little too aware that he could spend the rest of his life watching Aidan and get neither bored nor unhappy.

And then there’s Dean. Dean and his daemon Uzuri – his admittedly far too beautiful lioness daemon, all grace and slender lines and barely hidden power. They’re sometimes (most of the time) simply mesmerizing to watch. Many have commented on the irony of seeing sweet Dean, who’s slightly on the smaller side, coupled with such a great predator, but to Richard it has always made perfect sense. Underestimating Dean O’Gorman is a mistake he can proudly say he has never made and anyone who doesn’t have the eyes to see the fierce protectiveness the kiwi occasionally displays might as well be blind _as well as_ slow on the uptake.

If Richard is honest with himself, he spends a lot more time watching those four than he does anyone else and for once he isn’t too keen on examining the implications of such an observation too closely.

It’s when he notices Ithel staring at them _too_ , large brown eyes wide and dreamy that he starts to truly worry. Not that the way his stomach tightens and a pang hits his heart whenever he sees Aidan and Dean, or Uzuri and Lúcháir flitting all over each other – and they are, sometimes they seem so close and perfect that he cannot help but wonder if they are meant to be – shouldn’t have been enough of a clue already.

*

Richard rounds the corner of K Stage towards the trailer park, trying to shake Thorin’s mindset after a long day on set. Perhaps it’s his distraction that makes him stare at the scene right in front of him uncomprehendingly for a moment before realization dawns and he stops so abruptly that Ithel nearly bumps into him from behind.

Ignoring her grumbling as she pokes her head around his back to see what has stopped him dead in his tracks, Richard stares at Aidan and Dean, engaged in what looks like a _supremely_ passionate kiss. Dean has Aidan backed up against the wall, his arms bracketing the Irishman’s torso and they both look rumpled enough that Richard is quite sure that this has been going on for far longer than only a moment. Next to them Uzuri and Lúcháir are nestled up against each other, the lioness’ greater bulk almost swallowing the hummingbird’s slighter form whole as she curls around her.

He’s dimly aware of the tremors running through Ithel’s body, pressed up against his back and side as she is, just as he’s only peripherally aware that there’s some embarrassing noise coming out of his mouth as he stares at the two young men in front of him.

Aidan’s shocked exclamation when he opens his eyes and spots them yanks Richard out of his daze. Swallowing hard, he turns on his heels before Dean has even finished turning around and flees, his heart beating madly as his long legs transport him away, away, _away_ from the scene that could’ve been taken straight from his dreams.

Once safely ensconced in his trailer, the door locked, he curls up on the small bed with Ithel, trying desperately to get his breathing, his thoughts and his unwanted erection back under control. He’d suspected for a long time that Aidan and Dean are having sex, but to have the proof thrown in his face like that, so close to his own fantasies _except_ that he hadn’t just been an unwitting observer in those… well, that is a whole different story.

Richard has known since the first time he’s admitted to himself that he’s attracted to both of them that it’s a very bad, not good, exceptionally stupid and foolhardy idea. It’s not even that Aidan’s more than ten years his junior, that they’re both rising stars and that he doesn’t know what they would want with him of all people

–  Ithel glares at him from where her head is tucked into his chest, making a small huffing noise; it’s a point of contention between them that Richard sometimes tends to be a little too self-flagellating with his underdeveloped sense of self-worth, or so she says –

,but the fact that he knows, with a deep, painful certainty that it would never happen. Not because of those reasons, but because they already fit together so well and he would sooner chew off his own arm than disrupt their harmony.

If they just weren’t so bloody beautiful together, if he could just erase the pictures now burned in his mind – Aidan’s mouth open in a low moan, his lips swollen and hair mussed, Dean’s ass stretched taught as he leans against the wall, his head thrown back in abandon – if he could just forget the way they’ve always been nice and kind to him, both so generous with their respect and affection.

He’d originally intended to return to his apartment in the city tonight, but now Richard finds himself too weary to make even the short trip and far more happy hiding from the world in his trailer a little while longer– after all it is equipped for an overnight stay too, just in case filming goes late into the night. Well, as long as he doesn’t mind sleeping in a bed far too short for his actual size anyway.

He’s too embarrassed – and if he’s completely honest with himself afraid of what they might say – to open the door when Dean pounds on it, calling “Come on, Richard, open up! We just want to talk to you!”

He knows he should, should play the responsible adult and talk everything out, but Richard is tired and afraid and having this… talk or confrontation or whatever it would be right now can only end badly as far as he’s concerned.

So he shuts his eyes, buries his face in Ithel’s side and closes his heart to Aidan and Dean’s continuing entreaties to _please_ talk with them even if it is only to yell. They finally give up thirty minutes later and Richard falls asleep to restored silence and uneasy dreams.

*

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. In his defence, Richard had hardly expected to open his trailer door the next morning to find Aidan and Dean huddled on the steps with Uzuri and Lúcháir.

Aidan opens a bleary eye, casting a worried look at Richard, but when he finds no real anger in his face, just yawns, muttering, “Good morning to you too, Richard.”

Richard continues to stare at him as Aidan nudges Dean to get him to wake up too, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes.

“How long have you been out here?” he asks, unable to keep his concern out of his voice. He had never intended to make them do something as drastic as sleep in front of his trailer – that couldn’t be comfortable _or_ healthy.

One drooping eye looks at a wrist watch. “About an hour,” Dean answers around another yawn. “Didn’t want to let you slip away before talking to you.”

Though relieved that they had been smart enough not to _actually_ sleep outside his trailer, Richard still feels guilt clogging his throat. “I’m sorry, lads. I didn’t mean to let you wait like that.”

Aidan just shrugs. “It’s fine. _We_ didn’t mean to spring, you know, that thing yesterday on you.”

Richard can _feel_ himself blushing and tries to distract them from the glee he can see sparkling in their eyes by coughing loudly behind his hand. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Aidan drawls, “it’s really easier to show you…”

And suddenly Dean is right in front of him and his face is getting closer and –

Richard loses the plot for a few moments as soft, slightly chapped lips meet his in a quickly deepening kiss. He knows he must be frozen on the spot in shock, but his brain refuses to acknowledge anything but the press of Dean’s warm mouth against his own.

He feels slightly bereft when Dean finally breaks away, but at least the younger man is flushed and breathing heavily too.

Richard’s gaze flickers to Aidan, whose grin is so wide it threatens to split his face in two and then over to Ithel, who is cautiously approaching Uzuri until their noses are nearly touching, sniffing each other as Lúcháir flutters around their heads in a barely controlled frenzy.

He swallows hard past a suddenly dry throat. “Is this… Are you serious?”

“Dean just spent two minutes snogging the life out of you, I’d say that counts as serious,” Aidan comments with a grin and without hesitation or any kind of forewarning, he crowds Richard back against the trailer steps and kisses him.

Turns out it isn’t only Dean’s kisses which make Richard lose the plot. But where Dean’s kiss was slow and mellow and savouring, Aidan kisses like his and Richard’s lives depend on it, a heated, silky affair that makes his knees as weak as Dean’s had.

Even after it ends it takes Richard a while to get his bearings back – a fact he feels can be excused seeing as this is about the last thing he’d expected to happen – only to notice that due to the unplanned delay he’s really close to running late.

“I need to get to make-up,” he says a little hoarsely, one hand waving around apologetically. “Tami is going to kill me if I’m late, we’re on a really tight schedule today.”

Dean, who only spends a little less time in make-up than Richard does, is already nodding, though he doesn’t look too happy about having to postpone their prolonged talk.

At Aidan’s half-hearted grumble, the blond snipes, “Some people spend longer than half an hour there, you know, _boy band dwarf_.”

Aidan grins. “You’re just jealous everyone thinks I’m more handsome than you.”

“So _you_ say,” Dean retorts, one eyebrow challengingly raised. “At least we have a proper beard for a dwarf, don’t we, Richard?”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Richard protests, throwing up his hands in mock defence as he backs away – the wide-eyed look isn’t completely faked, considering that Aidan and Dean have been known to get into bickering duels of truly epic proportions and he’s already going to be bloody late as it is. “Look, guys, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this later?”

“Course we will,” Aidan nods, finally distracted from fake glaring at Dean. “You’re not getting out of this so easily now.”

With a last only somewhat strained smile Richard turns and heads towards his make-up trailer at a jog. Good thing getting all dressed up as a dwarf is so boring – he has a lot of thinking to do.

*

As promised, they all end up together that evening, piling into Richard’s trailer – not exactly as promised, seeing that Richard suddenly feels the irrational need to have some more _space_ than this, but at least they’re not ambushing him by the steps again.

Actually, they all end up in Richard’s already far too small bed, though he somehow doesn’t have much of a recollection how exactly they _got_ there. There had definitely been some pushing involved on their part and some getting dragged along on his part.

He’s squished tight between Aidan and Dean with barely any room to move and yet there’s warmth seeping into his limbs and he can _feel_ Aidan’s contented smile from where his face is pressed into Richard’s neck and Dean’s hot breath raising goose bumps at his nape. It all makes him quite loath to disturb this moment, but some things, he’s learned throughout life, cannot be put off till later without causing trouble when you’re lucky, and serious damage when you’re not.

“Wait,” he finally rasps when a hand – he isn’t even sure whose – starts to creep lower, caressing through his shirt.

The hand stills.

Richard draws a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate this, I do, I really do, but you know what you’re doing, and why.” His lips tilt a little wryly. “You’ve obviously talked about this already. An explanation for _me_ would be welcome though, and if not that at least some… context. I didn’t really expect _this_ after seeing you yesterday, you know.”

A pregnant pause follows as Dean and Aidan look at each other over Richard’s head, though he’s slightly fortified by their matching sheepish expressions.

“Actually, we got carried away yesterday,” Dean mumbles. “We had wanted to wait till we’d asked you too, but then Aidan went had to get himself ice-cream and – ”

“Hey! How’s this my fault all of sudden?!”

“Well if you hadn’t sucked on that cone in such a blatantly teasing manner we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now!”

Before Aidan can do more than open his mouth to protest, Richard – whose mind had been stuck on Dean saying that they’d wanted him even then – interrupts, his voice a little strangled, “You wanted to wait and ask me first?”

Two pairs of eyes refocused on him.

“Well yes,” Aidan says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Next to him Dean nods emphatically. “We’ve seen you looking, you know, and we _like_ you. You’re kind and generous and always there to help us when we need it… and of course it doesn’t hurt that you’re also smoking hot.”

Richard’s sharp intake of breath is the only indication of his surprise. He had thought he’d been more subtle than that, but apparently not. The warm flutter in his stomach that follows, however, goes unvoiced.

“Relationships are hard, even if only two people are involved,” Richard says quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling to avoid looking at either of them. “It’s not going to be any easier with three.”

“We do know that, Richard, we’re not naïve kids anymore,” Dean reminds him gently, the hint of a smile curling around his mouth. “But in this case we’ve all agreed that you’re – we’re – worth the risk. Together.”

Aidan’s voice is uncharacteristically sombre when he adds, “The only question left is if _you_ are willing to take that risk too.”

Slowly, without saying anything, Richard untangles himself from them both and drops to the ground in front of Ithel, whose ears twitch in awareness of the tension of this moment. They know each other, inside out, and no words are necessary to convey their feelings on this topic as he looks into her eyes – and as he’s looking they warm, in what he’s long ago recognised as her version of a smile. She nudges him once, encouragingly, a feeling of contentment and nervous excitement flooding through their bond.

Ithel rises gracefully, all eyes on her as she stalks toward Uzuri. There is a moment of weightlessness of suspended time, and then their noses touch. It’s almost like an electric shock that races down Richard’s spine at the daemon’s touch, a soft exclamation from the bed echoing his own wonder. Then Lúcháir settles down on Ithel’s back and suddenly Richard can’t move fast enough.

Tugging at Dean and Aidan, he murmurs, “Come on, my apartment has a king-sized bed.”

“You got a king-sized bed?!”

Richard has to stifle a laugh at Aidan’s outraged tone and smirks in a way that might definitely be called smug. “Senior cast privileges. Not that I really had a use for it.”

“I would beg to differ,” Aidan purred, batting his eyelashes a little, and yes, Richard really had walked into that one.

“We have to get there first,” he reminds the younger man – with just a little effort – tugging on his hand. A quick look at Dean confirms that he at least is ready to go and watching them with amusement written all over his face, along with the spark of arousal that Richard himself has difficulty ignoring at the moment.

Despite knowing the location of Richard’s apartment, they let him lead the way.

*

The six of them end up in a tangle of limbs, and hooves, and paws, and wings on his bed and it really shouldn’t be as comfortable, shouldn’t feel as _right_ as it does.

Next to him Ithel opens one sleepy eye, her gaze full of his own longing and belonging and whispers only one word.

“Believe.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because I spent a ridiculous amount of time searching for fitting names for all the daemons, here's a list of them and their meanings for anyone interested:
> 
> Richard – deer; Ithel ('generous' in Welsh)
> 
> Dean – lioness ; Uzuri ('beauty' in Swahili)
> 
> Aidan – hummingbird; Lúcháir ('joy' in Irish Gaelic)
> 
> Graham – dog, Rough Collie; Leal ('loyal' in old Scottish)
> 
> James – monkey, Golden Lion Tamarin; Ailís (Irish Gaelic, from Germanic Adalheidis meaning ‘noble type/kind/sort’)
> 
> Adam – snowy owl; Lysa ('dawn' in old norse)
> 
> Martin – fox; Raisa (Greek ‘ραιον (rhaion) meaning 'more relaxed', 'rose' in Yiddish, feminine form of Rais (leader) in Arabic)
> 
> William – lizard, Dwarf Yellow-Headed Gecko
> 
> John – sea turtle; Moana ('ocean' in Maori)
> 
> Stephen – squirrel 
> 
> Mark –peacock 
> 
> Ken – unidentified rodent
> 
> Jed – swamp harrier; Jalila ('important, exalted' in Arabic)
> 
> Peter Hambleton – bear
> 
> Peter Jackson – white swan; Ramaroa ('beacon, light in the dark' in Maori)
> 
> If anyone is interested why I chose the animals I did, feel free to ask! (The explanations would be too long and probably boring for this author's note.)


End file.
